There is a closet, somewhere deep, where the stories that Breanne and I don't care to acknowledge, hide from the light of day. They're the product of depraved minds, sick and twisted. Hopefully they are all fiction. We pray they're all fiction. And yet, sometimes, I wonder...
Why am I telling you this? We added another skeleton, buzzing softly, to the closet. Or more accurately, I had it dumped on my doorstep earlier today. I won't tell you who wrote it, but I will say that it is a fitting anniversary present from someone who will have been writing for this blog since January 15th, 2010.
If you celebrate nympho humiliation pain slut mania as much as I do, then perhaps you might want to open that closet door and examine the body we just shoved in there.
And then again, maybe you won't. But either way, it's erotic as hell. Check the codes to see if it's appropriate for your tastes. - MA
Why am I telling you this? We added another skeleton, buzzing softly, to the closet. Or more accurately, I had it dumped on my doorstep earlier today. I won't tell you who wrote it, but I will say that it is a fitting anniversary present from someone who will have been writing for this blog since January 15th, 2010.
If you celebrate nympho humiliation pain slut mania as much as I do, then perhaps you might want to open that closet door and examine the body we just shoved in there.
And then again, maybe you won't. But either way, it's erotic as hell. Check the codes to see if it's appropriate for your tastes. - MA
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